White Blank Page, Volume Two
Jan. 17th, 2010 12:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleurlbWarning: Picks up where episode 4.7 left off. If you’re not into spoilers, you’ll probably want to wait to read it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am only doing this for fun.
Notes: Follow-up story to White Blank Page, Volume One.
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The first day, Matt drove for over twelve hours, the flat, dusty scenery rolling past him, fast and familiar. He let his thoughts roam as he listened to Bob Dylan in a car that still smelled like pizza. He’d somehow managed to solve most of the problems on his mental list: how to leave, when to leave, where to go, what to say to Grandma and Shelby.
He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do. Shelby had called and gotten him an appointment with the dean of admissions. If they wouldn’t let him start in the next semester or wouldn’t restore his scholarship, then Matt would need a Plan B. But for the time being, he was just going to focus on Plan A.
That left what to say to Julie and Landry. He’d called and left a message on Landry’s cell phone. They’d been friends for so long, he knew Landry would understand. In fact, he suspected that Landry had been disappointed in his decision not to go away to college. Landry would be surprised, but he’d be fine with it.
Julie.... that was a much harder problem to solve. He didn’t trust himself to talk to her, not even on the phone. Hearing her wavering voice would break down every ounce of resolve he had.
He’d stay for Julie. He knew he would just as surely as he knew it would be a massive mistake. He’d end up resenting her, their relationship would become strained, and in less than a year, she’d just leave Dillon anyway. Hurting her was inevitable but Matt reckoned he’d hurt her less in the long run if he left now and explained later, than if he tried to explain now and ended up staying instead.
The first night, Matt stayed at a motel just outside Springfield, Missouri. He smiled as he remembered debating with Landry which Springfield the Simpsons lived in. After looking it up on Wikipedia, Landry had a crazy idea to visit everyone of the thirty-some Springfields in the US.
The second day was the same as the first. Landry called, but Matt didn’t answer. Julie didn’t call. After seven hours, Matt reached Springfield, Illinois and took it as a sign that it was where he was supposed to stop.
The third day, he drove until he was about an hour outside of Chicago and then found a cheap room at a chain hotel. Before he left, Shelby had pressed a roll of money into his hands, sheepishly telling him that it wouldn’t go very far in Chicago. He figured he needed to conserve his cash, especially when he found out how much hotel rooms cost in the city.
The fourth day, Matt drove into Chicago at the height of rush hour. The traffic was unbelievable: five lines jammed with cars like a parking lot at a football game. When the it thinned out, Matt was able to go a bit faster but found the driving difficult. He tried to keep a safe distance from the car in front of him, but someone would always screech into the space. It seemed like the only way to drive on a Chicago highway was to tailgate and hope for the best.
Exiting the highway, Matt expected to feel relief but he found the driving even more stressful. The added complications of pedestrians, taxi cabs, and one-way streets nearly paralyzed him, which led to incessant horn honking. When Matt finally pulled onto the street underneath the el tracks and found a parking space, he never wanted to drive in Chicago again.
He fed the meter, then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and squinted at the address.
37 S. Wabash. He located the building and managed to find his way to the admissions office. It was an open and airy space, with large abstract paintings on the wall and a hassled looking receptionist at a desk that qualify as modern art, with its glass surfaces, sharp edges, and silver lines.
“Hi, I have an appointment to see the dean,” said Matt, reminding himself to stand up straight. He didn’t dare lean on the desk for fear he’d break the glass.
“I’m sure you do,” said the receptionist, barely looking up from her flat panel computer screen. “But I can’t help you if I don’t know who you are.”
“Oh yeah, I’m Matt....Matthew Saracen,” replied Matt as he shuffled his feet. He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder.
The receptionist typed a few things into the computer before turning her attention to him. “Well, Matthew Saracen, you’re an hour and a half early for your appointment.”
“Oh yeah, well, I didn’t know what the traffic would be like and I was hoping that maybe the dean might be able to see me a little bit earlier?” He gave her an apologetic smile.
“The dean’s not even in the office yet. Why don’t you go spend the extra time at the Art Institute?”
“Um, maybe I’m confused or something, but I thought I was already at the Art Institute.”
“You’re at the School of the Art Institute. There’s also a museum - really big and famous, just around the corner.”
“Oh yeah,” said Matt softly, wishing the black slate floor could open up and swallow him whole.
“Your first time in Chicago?” asked the receptionist.
Matt nodded.
“OK. When you get outside, turn left, walk up to the first major cross street, that’s Adams. Turn left and you’ll see the museum two blocks in front of you on Michigan Avenue. Big white building, lions out front. You seriously can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your help and I guess I’ll see you later,” said Matt with a small wave.
The receptionist reached behind her and plucked a small card from the top of a file cabinet. “Here, use this pass and you’ll get in free.”
Matt thanked her and made his way out of the building, rubbing the edges of the card like it was a magic lamp. He followed the directions, trying not to bump into the people rushing past him. With the crowded sidewalks and streets choked with traffic, Matt felt like he saw more people on the walk to the museum than he did during the average day in Dillon. The feeling of being one of millions, was both frightening and comforting.
There was an energy to the city. A feeling of busyness. That things were happening, could happen, did happen. Dillon was sleepy but Chicago was all hopped up on speed and life.
He paused momentarily to admire one of the lions, then climbed the stone steps and entered the building. A school group trouped past, two even rows of elementary school kids, with an adult at each end of the line. Matt exchanged his pass for a ticket, picked up a map, and left his backpack at the coat check.
It was nearly impossible to know where to start. Impressionists. Contemporary. Modern. Medieval Armor. Ancient Greek. Then Matt noticed a banner hanging behind the ticket desk, advertising a special exhibition of prints and drawings. He looked at the map, then folded it in half and tucked it in his back pocket.
He made his way through an exhibition of Buddha and pagoda statues and into the drawing exhibition. The room was dimly lit with soft track lights casting a gentle glow on the pieces. Matt walked through slowly, taking the time to appreciate each drawing.
He didn’t get some of them, with their abstract squiggles of lines and circles. He identified more with the drawings of people and marveled over how different artists could draw essentially the same subject in such radically different ways. Cubist people. Minimal line people. Painstakingly rendered people.
Two works by the same artist, Ernest Kirchner, caught Matt’s eye. The woodcut of the Swiss peasant was hard, with unforgiving lines and coal black storm clouds. But the drawing of the two shepherds was peaceful and serene, the gently curving lines suggesting an easier life.
Matt was shifting between the two pieces when he walked into the girl. He mumbled an apology, feeling his face flushing. He just hadn’t seen her, sitting on a little stool off to the side of the Kirchner drawings.
Her hair was white blonde with uneven layers falling around her shoulders and a shock of pink dropping down onto her face, covering one eye. She looked up from her sketch pad, irritated. Matt looked down and could see he’d caught her mid-stroke, causing a charcoal line to stretch haphazardly across the page.
“I ruined your drawing. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t see you,” said Matt.
“Better watch it or I’ll have them revoke your walking license,” she said, her face reminding him of his mean third grade teacher.
“What?”
“You’re new to the city, right? Yeah, you need a license for walking. Have to take a test and everything.”
Matt smiled and cocked his head, certain that the girl was joking. “Yeah, well, I bet I could pass that test with my eyes closed”
“Given your performance this morning, I somehow doubt it.” She flipped her sketchbook shut and stood up. She was at least six inches shorter than he was.
“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to chase you away or anything.”
“You’re not. I have class soon.”
“You go to the School of the Art Institute? How do you like it?”
She drew in a deep breath as she considered the question. “It’s....good. Difficult. But I’m learning a lot and the teachers are tough but fair. There’s so much to art that I never considered before. You thinking about going here next year?”
“Actually, I’m supposed to be going here now. I got accepted but...” Matt trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Felt obligated to take care of my grandmother. Didn’t want to lose my girlfriend. Was afraid to leave behind everything I know and everyone I love.
“Well, you’re here now.”
“Yeah, I am. I’m Matt.” He held out his hand and then felt stupid as she had to shuffle her sketchbook to her other arm. Her hand was small and delicate, but he could feel callouses and see paint under her fingernails.
“I’m Aubrey.”
“Audrey?”
She rolled her eyes as she withdrew her hand. “No, Aubrey, with a ‘B’. It means elf king.”
Matt’s first instinct was to point out that she was a girl, but he swallowed that dumb comment. “Okay, Aubrey the Elf King. I got it now. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Why leave it to chance?” she said as she flipped open her sketch book and started writing in precise block capitals. “Meet me at the coffee place where I work, around 4 this afternoon. Sound good?”
“Sure. You’re giving me directions, right?”
“Of course I’m giving you directions. And I’ll give you the address where you can get your walking license.” She tore the page out and handed it to him with a smile. Matt’s return grin was slow, nearly shy at first, but he felt oddly comfortable with this strange girl.
She gave him a little wave and then was gone, walking faster than Matt would have thought possible. He looked down at the directions, then folded the paper and tucked it in his shirt pocket. He felt pleased with his morning accomplishments and was ready for his meeting with the dean.
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Matt sat in the el car, leaning against the window. He was torn between staring at the scenery and keeping a wary eye on the homeless guy at the other end of the car. The train was less crowded than Matt had expected and it seemed to fly above the backyards and streets of Chicago.
Anxious about missing the Montrose stop, Matt got up as the train pulled out of Belmont. He stood by the door, his sweaty hand glued to the support rail as he counted down each stop.
When the train stopped at Montrose, he pressed the button to open the door, the way he’d seen other passengers do. Then he stepped out onto the platform and went down the stairs, exiting onto the street underneath the tracks.
Aubrey’s directions said that the coffee place was practically under the tracks, on the north side of the street. But Matt felt disoriented and could barely remember how to tell north from south. After two false starts, he found the place he was looking for.
Matt eased open the door of the coffee shop and walked in. A long rectangular window allowed some natural light to filter in. Several large canvases hung on the wall, bold colors and shapes haphazardly forming streetscapes.
The girl at the counter wasn’t Aubrey. She had short cropped blue hair with red spots dyed into it. Her eyebrow was pierced and her arms were covered in tattoos.
“Hi. I’m here to meet Aubrey,” said Matt uncertainly as he stepped up to the counter.
“Oh, you’re the guy. She hasn’t shut up about you all day.”
“Really?”
The girl leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, yes, really. So you better not break her heart or I swear to god, I’ll break your fingers.”
Matt took a step backwards and stammered his response. “No, ma’am I won’t.”
The girl laughed. “Ma’am? I don’t know if I should be impressed with your manners or insulted.”
“Well, I don’t know your name,” said Matt with an apologetic shrug.
“I’m Erin. Aubrey’s dragging up extra supplies from the basement. You want a cup of coffee while you wait?”
As if on cue, Aubrey appeared with a large box of coffee filters. “You better not be giving Matt a hard time.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Erin, winking at Matt as she poured coffee into a large blue mug.
“I’ll be done soon. Sorry about this,” said Aubrey as she disappeared with a wave.
Matt picked up his coffee and then set it down.
“Any reason you’re still standing there?” asked Erin.
“Can I pay for the coffee?”
“Nah, this one’s on me. Just have a seat. And for god’s sake, try to relax. It’s a date, right? Not a firing squad.”
As Matt walked back to the window and found a place to sit, he felt his heart speed up. He didn’t know he was on a date. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be on a date. Especially not with the whole Julie thing weighing on his mind. No, he definitely wasn’t ready for a date, even though, maybe when he eventually was ready, he would like that date to be with Aubrey.
Needing distraction, Matt pulled out his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. He rolled his pencil between his fingers, trying to decide what to draw. He’d feel better as soon as the pencil hit the paper, but he didn’t want to start until he knew what he wanted to draw.
He’d been on a hand-drawing kick for weeks. At first, he did it because of Richard’s backhanded compliment. But then Matt realized that hands could tell stories. Chewed fingernails. Age spots. A well-worn ring. Callouses. Scars. Each detail added to the character.
The sound of a chair scraping on the floor caused Matt to look up. Aubrey slid into the seat smoothly and rested her elbows on the table.
“The blank page....sometimes it’s an enemy. Sometimes it’s a friend,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” mumbled Matt. He felt unsure of himself and didn’t know what, if anything, he should say about whether this was a date.
“So, how’d it go with the dean?” asked Aubrey as she leaned back in her chair.
“I guess it’s a good news/bad news thing. The good news is I’m accepted again. The bad news is that they won’t let me start mid-year because the first year is like this special program or something and you can’t start in the middle.”
“Then I’m happy and sad for you,” she said with a smile. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, but the pressure building up in his throat caused several uncomfortable seconds of silence to stretch between them.
He cleared his throat once, but still couldn’t manage to choke out the words.
“Matt, you still with us here?” she asked in a teasing tone.
“Look, Aubrey, it was real nice, you talking to me today and all and you seem like a sweet girl, but I gotta tell you that I’m, well, I don’t know what I am exactly but I’m not ready to be on a date,” said Matt, the words coming out in a rush.
Aubrey laughed. “What makes you think that I’m ready to be on a date with you? I’ve barely known you an hour yet.”
“Oh right, yeah... good, as long as we’re on the same page,” stammered Matt, his cheeks burning.
“So, what are you going to do now? I mean, obviously, not this minute-now, but next. What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know. I guess go back to Texas until the new school year starts and keep delivering pizzas.”
“Sounds like you’d rather cross the ocean in a lifeboat with a tiger than do that.”
Matt sighed and looked away. “I don’t know. I came up here and I don’t know what I expected, but it felt like a new start and now, it’s almost like landing on the Go to Jail spot in Monopoly. Look, can we talk about something else?”
“You’re the boss, applesauce,” replied Aubrey with an impish grin.
Matt laughed. “Boss, applesauce?”
“Shhh. I learned from Judge Judy. My guilty secret. I love trashy daytime television.”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Yeah, you seem like an honorable type. You have a very honest face.”
Matt looked down, trying not to blush. “You can tell all that just by my face?”
“Sure. You seem like the trustworthy, responsible, dependable type. So it’s a pretty big deal that you just dropped everything and drove on up here. Oh, wait, you don’t want to talk about that. OK. Well, I told you my guilty secret, why don’t you tell me one?”
“I...I don’t have any secrets. Not really.”
“Everyone has secrets, but that’s okay. Some day, you’ll tell me all of your secrets.”
“You sound pretty confident of that.”
“I am. Everyone does eventually, because I have that kind of face. But until then, why don’t you let me look at your sketchbook?”
Matt shrugged and pushed it across the table. Aubrey opened it and slowly looked through the pages. The first few were still life drawings from the class at Dillon Tech. Then his hand obsession had begun. Grandma’s hands, folded in her lap. Shelby’s hand, holding a pair of scissors. A battered hand on a football. His own hand, reaching out to push Julie’s hair off her face, just her chin and a hint of her mouth visible.
When Aubrey was done, she slid the book back across the table. She didn’t say anything, but Matt knew she was well on her way to knowing some of his secrets.
“You know, you’ve seen mine, now it’s only fair that I see yours,” he said.
“I don’t have my sketchbook here, but you’ve already seen some of mine.”
“What, at the museum? All I saw was that I ruined your copy of the shepherds.”
“No, I mean these,” she said, as she gestured toward the canvases on the walls.
“For real?”
She nodded proudly.
“They’re really good. I like the way they’re both abstract and not, all at the same time, depending on how you look at them.”
“Good, that’s what I was going for. So, why all the hands?”
“I don’t know. I guess I like them because they tell so much about the person. But not everything. Like you can see the what, but have no idea of the why.”
“They give clues, but the mystery is still there, waiting to be solved.”
“Yeah, exactly,” said Matt, pleased that someone understood. “This might be kind of boring for you, but do you mind telling me about your classes? What it’s like?”
For two hours, they talked easily about art school and Texas, friends and past experiences. Erin closed up the shop around them, locking the door, mopping the floor, wiping down tables, but neither of them really noticed.
“Hey, kids, I gotta get out of here in about fifteen, so wrap it up or take it elsewhere, okay?” called Erin from the counter.
Aubrey waved her off then looked at Matt with a strange expression on her face until finally his paranoia cracked. “What? Why are you looking at me like that.”
“Look, you need a Plan B, right? Well, Erin’s brother just kicked out his roommate, so maybe you could talk to him, see if you’d want to be his roommate. Find a job, stay up here until school starts next year.”
“Really? I mean, that sounds good and everything, but...” Matt trailed off, knowing he was somewhat reluctant but not quite understanding why.
“Don’t worry. Erin’s brother is nothing like her. He’s a tax attorney, just two years at his job, so he works crazy hours. It’s a two-bedroom apartment, but usually he’s never even home anyway. And believe me, even if you acted as bad as you could, you’d still be better than his last roommate.”
Matt let all this sink in and tried to picture it. He couldn’t quite get there, couldn’t see himself living in an apartment, with a stranger, in this vast and nearly overwhelming city. But then he equally couldn’t see himself driving back to Dillon and picking up his old life.
“You don’t have to decide anything now. Although we do kind of have to get out of here. You feel like having some dinner?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“There’s a great Thai place a few blocks from here. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure.”
Aubrey stood up. “I just have to get my jacket. You know, we’ll be walking past where Erin’s brother lives, so we can stop in and meet him, check out the place, if you want.”
Matt nodded and then watched as Aubrey walked away. He felt uneasy, excited and at least ten other feelings, swirling around in his head and stomach, nearly making him dizzy. He remembered the science camp that he and Landry went to at Texas Tech when they were twelve.
They did an experiment at the pool, the point of which was long forgotten. But Matt remembered it involved climbing up endless steps, to the tippy-top of the platform high dive.
He’d felt the same crazy, queasy, anything-could-happen feeling then, as he crept up to the edge of the platform and peeked over the edge. As much as he’d wanted to turn around and run back down the stairs, he’d gone all the way up there, and he owed it to himself to step out into the emptiness and see what would happen.
“You ready?” asked Aubrey, already standing at the door and holding it open.
Matt stood up, knowing that sometimes, you just had to jump.
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Date: 2010-01-17 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-20 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-20 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-20 09:01 pm (UTC)And I don't know if you based this in reality or were just making it up, but there *is* a really good Thai place just a few blocks up Montrose from the red line stop. :)
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Date: 2010-01-21 04:29 pm (UTC)It's where my friend took me to eat on my first day in Chicago.
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Date: 2010-01-24 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-26 05:19 am (UTC)